Yesterday, early for an appointment, I decided to take a walk. At one point, I realized I could either go all the way around, or walk along a stream, and perhaps come to a bridge so I could cross. My path ended, and again, there was a choice. Turn back, or cross the stream. I took off my shoes, rolled up my pants, and walked across, feeling the caress of the water, and the smoothness of the stones. What a treat! I found some grass to scape the mud off my feet, and looked from my new vista to see ducks, many floating mallard ducks, male and female, exquisite in their two different plumages. We never know what's around the next curve.
Sometimes, we are given the gift of stepping into the stream, and crossing, and that is what this day brings, this night, a crossing from one year to the next. May the crossing be one that connects.